The Truth That You Deny
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Season 5/DARK/Aaron Hotchner & Emily Prentiss/ "Is something wrong?" Aaron asks, and Emily turns, watching the dark sky outside the window behind him. Black and empty, the stars all gone. "No," she whispers. "Everything's fine." She stopped searching for stars long ago./ dark theme


**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: might be trigger-ish because of the theme, nothing graphic, mostly between the lines, no Foyet in this universe**

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 **The Truth That You Deny**

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 _"It feels like sex can go from something you want to do to a punishment really fucking quickly."_

 _\- Alyssa, The End Of The F***ing World_

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 **I**

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She remembers her first kiss like it was yesterday.

She's thirteen and he's her first boyfriend. His name is Daniel. A fourteen-year-old boy with dark curls and blue eyes, sweet and gentle and caring.

It's real. Pure. _Innocent._ Nothing more than holding hands and snuggling in front of the TV for weeks.

But when it finally happens, a _real_ kiss, it's _fucking_ perfect.

The dark sky above them filled with a thousand stars.

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 **III**

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It happens in Vegas.

 _What a fucking clichè._

When he sits down next to he's already had one drink too many, that much Emily can tell, even though she's past any rational thought herself.

He buys them a drink and she returns the favor by paying for the next one. She's not sure who pays for the third and the fourth and the fifth, but by the time they would have had a sixth, they're not at the bar any longer but in the elevator. His tongue in her mouth and his hands in her hair, her legs around his waist pulling him closer to where he has her pushed up against the wall and-

 _Fuck, this will cost them their jobs._

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 **IV**

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"What do you think you're doing?" Emily murmurs, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

"It's been four days already. Have mercy, will you?" Aaron mutters against her neck, one hand under her shirt, the other on it's way further down her body.

"You'll manage another four," Emily says, stilling his hand with hers.

"No, I won't. Jack's still asleep, we could-"

"No," Emily shakes her head, her eyes still closed. "We agreed. Not when Jack's staying over."

Aaron groans, clearly regretting this decision. "That was way before Haley decided to go on a business trip."

"A cold shower might help," Emily suggests, trying to hold back a chuckle.

.

"We could meet in the copy room in ten minutes. What do you think?"

Looking up from her phone, Emily feigns surprise. "Why wait when we could do it right here in the elevator?"

Aaron shrugs, already reaching for her. "That's fine with me."

"I was joking!" Emily chuckles, but giving in to the kiss anyway.

"This is all your fault," he mutters when she pulls back, a pained expression on his face.

Emily rolls her eyes, smoothing down her bangs with her hands. "If it's that bad why don't you just take matters into your own hands?"

"It's not exactly the same."

"I can't speak for you," Emily shrugs, looking back down at her phone. "But I felt particularly satisfied this morning."

"Are you saying that-" Aaron starts and stops when the elevator lurches to a sudden stop on their floor.

.

"I just thought it would be easier to manage a family along with a job like this, you know?"

Emily nods and gives JJ a sympathetic smile, not sure what else to do. Even if she could tell JJ the truth, having Jack over now and then wasn't exactly the same.

Taking a sip from her coffee, Emily keeps listening to JJ while she follows her to the conference room. Even from afar Emily can see Garcia already laying out pictures on the table.

"What do we-" Emily starts and stops when she gets a look at the picture pulled up on the screen on the wall, the coffee cup slipping from her hand, shattering to a thousand pieces when it hits the floor.

.

The moment she steps out of the car her hands are wet with sweat. There's a sudden pressure on her chest that makes it hard to breathe, black dots dancing in front of her eyes.

 _Get back in the car._

 _Just get back in the damn car._

"You alright?" Rossi asks from where he's standing a few feet away from her, a frown growing on his face.

Emily nods, smiles. "I'm fine," she says, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "It's just the heat."

Rossi nods. "It's maddening, isn't it?"

.

"I can't see how he could have taken them from here. It's too far away from the road, even..."

Morgan keeps talking, but Emily isn't listening.

There's nothing but trees and bushes, left and right, the small path barely visible at all, the clearing just as hidden as it's always been.

 _Twenty-five years and it looks just the same._

Her sight is swimming, her chest feels too tight and she starts walking without thinking. Brushing through the undergrowth she keeps going, straightforward, like all those years ago, branches grazing her bare arms.

When she steps out onto the gravel path she's not surprised to hear Aaron's voice from right behind her.

"That explains how he got here," he states. "It's broad enough for a car to fit through."

Emily nods, swallows. "If you turn right there's only the lake, but if you turn left you'll reach the main road."

"How did you know it was here?"

Emily shuts her eyes, briefly listening to the rustle of wind in the trees.

"I didn't."

.

She's sitting in her car, her hands tightly clutched around the steering wheel. Unable to move.

Her phone rings for the third time in an hour: _Aaron_ , but she doesn't answer.

She wonders if he can see her car from his living room window, hopes that he doesn't. She has no idea how to explain this.

There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she wishes she knew how to cry. Maybe that would ease the pain. But she can't, doesn't know how to, and anyway what would it change?

She shakes her head at herself, angry and annoyed, before she finally reaches for her phone, sending Aaron a message that she can't come over tonight.

.

She's sitting in her shower, the water turned cold long ago, and she keeps telling herself that it's only because of the weather, only because of the sweltering heat.

But it's not.

 _It's not._

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 **II**

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In the end she doesn't write a letter, doesn't leave a note. There's no one she could write a letter to anyway.

She's twenty-one and so _fucking_ _tired_ of living.

She heads to her favorite club, doesn't even need to reach for her ID when she passes the bouncer. She takes the pills first, hidden in a bathroom stall, 145 pills, white and blue and red.

She gulps them down with the bottle of water she brought with her, tries to fight the urge to vomit them right back up. _It's not going to work if she does._

By the time she makes her way to the bar she's already feeling dizzy. She orders a shot of tequila and then another one, doesn't have to pay for either one of them, because it's Peter behind the counter and he always lets her drink for free.

When she's dancing, her black skirt spinning, her dark hair flying, the lights above her look like stars.

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 **III**

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"It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

It's the lust in his eyes that tells her differently.

She nods, _once, twice_ , but doesn't make a move to leave his office. It's dark, they're the only ones left, and she knows how this is going to end.

"I'm your supervisor, we can't do this," he adds, his voice all stoic, emotionless. Impersonal. But in his eyes there's a raging fire, a fire she already knows will consume them both.

"You're my subordinate, this could end both of our careers," he states, and she says nothing, only holds his gaze steadily. Waits, counting the seconds in her head.

She's reached _eight_ when he finally rounds his desk, his eyes darkening with every step he takes.

" _Fuck it_ ," he mutters under his breath, right before his lips crash against hers.

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 **IV**

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"You're late, Prentiss," he states the next morning when she rushes into the conference room half an hour late, his worried glance betraying the angry pitch in his voice.

"I'm sorry," she mutters, avoiding his eyes as she sits down as far away from him as possible.

 _I'm so sorry._

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"Why are we here again?" Emily asks, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

 _The heat is going to kill her._

"Hotch wants to make sure we didn't miss something," Morgan answers from where he's searching through the undergrowth. "We already searched everything twice," Emily states, balling her fists in frustration.

Morgan shrugs. "So did local PD. Ask Hotch, you're the one who pissed him off."

Emily bites her lip, shakes her head before she turns, walking off in the other direction.

.

Her shirt is wet with sweat, clinging to her body like a second skin and it's not just because of the unbearable summer heat.

Twenty-five years and she can still feel the fire, the smoke making her eyes water. The taste of ashes on her tongue. It was right there, three feet away from here, next to a tent. She remembers it clearly, even when she doesn't want to.

She wants to move, but she can't, and it's like twenty-five years ago even when, here and there, her mind isn't _fucked up_ with drugs.

She should go back to the car, _fuck_ _,_ she shouldn't be here at all and she wants to run, wants to run so badly, but just like then, she doesn't. She can't.

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She's hiding in a bathroom stall at the office, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up against her chest, feeling fourteen all over again.

Her head hurts and her eyes sting and all she wants to do is scream. But instead she balls her hands into fists and bites her lip until she tastes blood.

She's not going to fall apart; she's not going to break, not here, not now, not ever.

She's _Emily_ _fucking_ _Prentiss_ and not a damsel in distress. She doesn't need saving.

It's JJ who comes looking for her, knocking at the door, once, twice, before clearing her throat, clearly uncomfortable with what she's about to say next.

"Hotch told me to take you home."

.

She doesn't go home.

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 **II**

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She takes a cab home, her sight blurry and her voice slurred, and she pays the driver far too much before she stumbles out of his car. The house is dark and empty just like it's always been and it's comforting, the thought that no one will be there to stop her in time.

She makes her way upstairs in a haze, stumbling once, twice, but in the end she manages to get to her room without a scratch. Not that it would matter now. She locks the door behind her out of habit, sinks down on her bed fully dressed, too tired to get changed.

She curls up on the mattress, looking out of the window and into the night, searching for stars. There aren't any.

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 **III**

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"What are we doing here?" Aaron whispers against her neck, his fingers tangled in between her hair, tugging at the strands ever so slightly.

She doesn't have an answer and so she says nothing, only pulls him closer from where she's pushed back on the backseat of her car, in the _bloody_ FBI parking garage of all places.

Maybe that's what he wants, _getting caught_ , Emily thinks. Maybe he's sick of this life after all.

She knows she is. But then, she's never been satisfied with anything.

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 **IV**

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She's kneeling on the living room floor next to Jack, his coloring book spread out on the coffee table between them. He's coloring a happy grinning dinosaur, while Emily's coloring the trees.

It's quiet, the only sound coming from the crayons moving over the paper, the two of them alone, Aaron still at the store to get something for dinner.

"Are you having bad dreams?" Jack suddenly asks, his hand still moving, the dinosaur all lilac now.

"Why would you think that?" Emily asks quietly, even though she already suspects she knows the answer.

"I heard you crying," the boy states, as innocently as only a child can, his eyes fixed on his picture.

She wants to lie, but she just can't. That's not what he's asking for.

"Sometimes I do," she admits, and watches as Jack stills.

"I have them too, sometimes," he tells her thoughtfully, his eyes meeting hers. "But Mommy got me a nightlight."

"Does it help?"

Jack nods. "I'll tell Daddy to get you one," he states seriously, before turning his attention back to his picture, and Emily can't help but smile.

.

She's sitting on the couch, a glass of bourbon in her hand, listening to the faint murmur of Aaron's voice from Jack's bedroom down the hall, reading his son a bedtime story.

Leaning back on the cushions, Emily looks out into the sky through the open window, wishing for a change in the weather, or a thunderstorm at last. But there's nothing but an endless, cloudless sky.

It's too early to look for stars; Jack's bedtime is way before the stars come out, but Emily keeps searching anyway.

.

When Aaron sits down beside her, she's already had one glass too many.

It's she who pulls him closer towards her, too drunk to care about rules. Just a kiss she tells herself, just to feel something, anything.

But it's not enough and so she pulls him closer and in between her legs. She needs more.

He gives in instantly, more than willing to forget about their rules for a moment, pushing her back down on the couch, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands tearing at her clothes.

She wants it, she really does and yet- _she doesn't._

It's a sob that shatters it all and it's not until he stills, his eyes finding hers, that Emily realizes she's crying.

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"Talk to me, Emily," he begs quietly. His face full of worry, his hands hovering over hers without touching her, unsure of what to do, unsure what just happened.

She wants to tell him, knows that he has to tell him that it's not his fault, that he hasn't done anything wrong, but all she manages are painful sobs, hot tears running down her cheeks.

"Please talk to me," he tries once more, and she wishes she could, wishes she could tell him all, but she can't. She just can't and so she heads for the door instead.

"Emily, please wait."

She stops, stills with her hand on the door, turns around slightly, and when her eyes find his she thinks the horror in his eyes might just match hers.

.

When she steps out of his apartment building, there are dark clouds all over the horizon.

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 **II**

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She wakes up in hell.

Everything hurts, everything burns, and the lights are too bright. It's not what she imagined. She wants to move, wants to scream but she can't do either. There's a horrible taste in her mouth and something gets shoved down her throat with force.

It's not hell. It's worse.

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When she opens her eyes, she's not alone. There's someone sitting next to her bed, a young man, wearing a black suit and a red tie, looking like some _bloody_ politician and oddly familiar. His hair is dark, his eyes even darker and Emily wonders if she should know him.

She does, _she knows_ , she just can't place him. Not yet at least.

She tries to move, but finds herself strapped down to the bed instead. She frowns, trying to get her hands free when the man next to her bed bends forward, his warm hand coming close around hers, making her stop.

"Don't," he tells her, his voice deep and gentle. "Just go back to sleep."

"There are no stars," she whispers brokenly despite the pain in her throat, tears blurring her vision while she thinks about the empty sky in front of her bedroom window. "There are never any stars anymore."

"They're still there," the man tells her softly. "You just have to keep looking."

There's a wedding bend glittering on his right and Emily wishes she knew who he is, but she's too tired to ask, too tired to remember.

"Sleep," he murmurs, and she does.

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 **III**

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It means nothing. _It can't._

It's what Emily keeps telling herself when he _fucks_ her in dark motel rooms somewhere far away from home. And at first it doesn't. It's nothing but sex, nothing but _getting off_ with each other, finding some long needed relief.

It means nothing at all. _It doesn't._

But then, from one second to the next, it does.

 _It fucking matters._

Maybe it always has.

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 **IV**

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"What are you waiting for again?" Morgan asks, and Emily shrugs, not turning around to look at him.

She's standing in the middle of the clearing, unmoving and with her eyes closed, listening. It's impossible to breathe, the air thick and humid, the weather taking a turn for the worse.

There's no sun though, the sky shrouded in clouds.

"Could you hurry up? I want to be back at the office before the storm hits," Morgan states impatiently, and Emily wishes Aaron hadn't insisted on Morgan going with her.

"Why don't you wait in the car then?" she mumbles, her eyes still closed, her hands balled into fists.

.

Reid's sitting at the conference table, looking through the crime scene pictures spread out before him, while Emily's standing at the window, watching the rain. It's been raining for hours, thunder roaring in the distance and Emily wishes the _damn_ windows would open to let some fresh air into the room.

"You found something?"

Emily looks up, meeting Aaron's gaze in the windowpane from where he's standing in the doorframe to the conference room.

"No," she answers, unblinking, knows that's not really what he wants to know.

He hovers in the doorframe just a little longer than necessary before he leaves.

.

"We're missing something," Reid murmurs. "I just don't know what it is."

Emily nods, rubbing her temple absently. It's past midnight and they're the only ones left, the office dark and empty, the only sound coming from the rain drumming against the windowpane.

"You look tired," Reid states suddenly, his eyes finding hers from across the table. "You don't have to stay."

"I can't sleep anyway," Emily murmurs half-heartedly, before getting up. "I'll go and make some coffee."

.

She's not sure what makes her step into Aaron's office, she just does, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible. She's not sure how to explain this to Reid.

For a moment she just stands there, in the middle of the room, wishing things could be different. Wishing she could be different.

But she's not.

She sits down on the couch, leaning back against the cushions, looking out of the window and into the night. There's nothing but an endless darkness, nothing but a black night sky.

.

She wakes up with a scream dying on her lips, her cheeks wet with tears.

When she opens her eyes she finds Aaron, crouched down from where she's curled up on his couch. They're not alone either; out of the corner of her eye she spots Reid, his face worn with worry.

For a moment she's ashamed of herself.

"Emily," Aaron whispers quietly, his hand coming close around hers, and it's all it takes to break her.

When he pulls her into his arms she doesn't fight him; she buries her face against his button-down and starts crying like she's never cried before.

Neither one of them notices the door falling shut.

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 **II**

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"You should thank him."

"Who?" Emily asks, looking out of the window and into the bright morning sun. She's not strapped down to the bed any longer, but she's not allowed to leave either.

"The agent who broke down your bedroom door."

Emily almost laughs. "No, Mother. I won't."

"He saved your life, Emily."

"And why would I want to thank him for that?"

She hears her mother draw a breath, but she doesn't turn to look at her.

"He saved your life, Emily," her mother repeats, and if Emily hadn't known any better she'd have said her mother was close to tears. "If he hadn't seen you coming home that night and-"

"What's his name?"

"Excuse me?"

"His name, Mother," Emily says, turning her head on the pillow. "If you want me to thank him I need to know his name."

The look on her mother's face makes her chuckle. "You don't even know his name, do you?"

.

She's released a day later and she heads back to Yale straight from the hospital.

The incident won't be mentioned ever again.

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 **III**

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"Maybe it's the start of something new," he breathes against her neck, and Emily shuts her eyes and pretends she hasn't heard him.

He's taken her home with him for the first time and she came along willingly.

She's not sure what she's doing here though, isn't sure how to fit into his life. She's not what he's looking for. She's not what he needs. She can't give him what he wants.

But she wonders if she could change after all.

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 **IV**

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She doesn't go to work for the first time in her life.

Instead of calling Aaron she leaves JJ a message, telling her that she's sick before turning off her phone completely.

They could do this case without her.

.

She's lying in the grass, her eyes on the cloudy sky above her, her clothes soaked from the rain.

For twenty-five years she's avoided coming anywhere near here; now she can't stay away. The clearing at the lake calling out to her like a siren.

She wonders where _he_ is, wonders what _he_ does for a living, wonders how _he_ looks today. Wonders if she would even recognize him. Maybe. Maybe not.

 _Does it matter?_ Probably not.

.

Her gun feels cold against her temple and she thinks about pulling the trigger just then.

 _Wouldn't it be fitting to end it right here where it all began?_

The beginning of the end.

 _Ashes to Ashes. We all fall down._

.

 _No. No. No. No. No._

Not yet.

Just not yet.

.

She has no idea what time it is, no idea how long she's been lying there.

It's still raining, her clothes soaked through and through, her whole body trembling.

She's running a fever, Emily knows, knows that there's no bonfire, no tent, no laughter. Knows that she's just hallucinating,

It's twenty-five years later and she's not a fourteen year old anymore. Yet she's still there, lying in the grass like she did back then, her eyes searching the dark night sky.

 _All alone._

.

Someone is calling her name. A familiar voice echoing through the night.

She opens her eyes, her eyelids heavy, her eyes burning. It's not raining any longer, but her clothes are still wet, clinging to her feverish skin.

There's a flicker of light somewhere in the distance, somewhere between the trees, coming closer and closer and she wonders if it's-

"Emily!"

 _Aaron._

She blinks, watches as he falls to his knees next to her. Something is pulled out of her grasp, his voice close against her ear.

"I'm here, Emily. I'm here." He's stripping off his jacket to wrap it around her body, his hands warm and gentle. "Everything's going to be okay," he mutters softly, and then and there Emily decides to believe him.

"The stars are still there," he breathes against her ear, before pulling her up and into his arms bridal style.

When Emily looks up at the sky, the dark horizon is lit with a thousand stars.

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 **I**

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There's another story, another boy. Another first she can't forget.

His name is Daniel too. _What a coincidence_ _._ A fourteen year old with dark hair and dark eyes and a twisted laugh. She's fourteen, he's her friend's boyfriend and the only reason he invited her to his party at the lake is the fact that she said _no_ to him once.

But that's something she'll understand much later. _Too late._

It's the end of everything.

The sky above her head dark and empty and robbed of all the stars.

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 **IV**

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She's sitting at the kitchen table next to Jack, the boy playing with his toy car with one hand and eating his cereal with the other.

Aaron frowns from where he's watching him from over his newspaper, but says nothing and Emily doesn't either.

Haley would pick up Jack in less than an hour and neither Aaron nor Emily was in the mood to ruin those last few moments with some useless discussion.

Bending the rules from time to time didn't hurt anyone.

.

"You're coming back to work on Monday?" Aaron asks her later, when they're alone again for the first time in days.

"I will," Emily murmurs from where she's curled up next to him on the couch in the living room, enjoying the way Aaron keeps running his fingers through her hair.

"The others know about us," he tells her a moment later, and Emily thinks it sounds too much like an apology. _It's not his fault._

"I know," she states, closing her eyes. "It was about time, don't you think?"

He chuckles, his lips briefly brushing against her temple when he whispers: "I love you."

.

They're lying next to each other, their naked bodies tangled between the sheets. The bedroom dark and quiet except for their breathing.

"Is something wrong?" Aaron asks, and Emily turns, watching the dark sky outside the window behind him. Black and empty, the stars all gone.

"No," she whispers. "Everything's fine."

.

She stopped searching for stars long ago.

.

 _(Liar.)_

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 **II**

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When she comes back home for the first time since the incident she finds a note on her nightstand.

It's written in unfamiliar handwriting, only her forename on top of it.

Curious, she sits down at the edge of her bed, unfolding the piece of paper with trembling fingers. There's only one sentence, only a few words, making sense only to her.

 _Never stop searching for stars._

.

In the end it's just another thing she tells herself to forget. It's easier to move on with nothing holding you back.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


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